


when the party's over (you're still here)

by gly13



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Explicit Language, Friends to Lovers, House Party, Implied Improper Use of Scuba Diving Equipment, M/M, Oxygen Awareness, Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gly13/pseuds/gly13
Summary: “Hey, Jacks!” Jackson forces his head to turn in the direction of the voice. “When’s the next party?”Jackson pushes out a laugh and hopes it sounds at least somewhat normal.“I’ll let you know when I have a date,” he calls back.“You’re a real one, Wang!”Jackson shoots him a pained thumbs-up before turning back to Jinyoung.He grips the edge of the table. “Help.”





	when the party's over (you're still here)

**Author's Note:**

> pls just for the sake of this story pretend that national oxygen awareness day is somewhere around late november / early december-ish thanks (thatll make more sense later i swear)
> 
> this fic is set in england literally for the singular purpose of bonfire night but if there's any british slang you don't get feel free to ask ^-^ there's not much of it though tbh
> 
> big thanks to mods bill and ted for organising this <3
> 
> enjoy xx

Jackson can feel the bass in his bones, down to his very core.

It shakes up his organs to the beat of the music, mixes the alcohol into his blood until it’s all sloshing around together in his veins. He can feel it thunder its way through his entire body, filling his mind with the deep vibrations of the latest hits on the playlist he spent a few hours carefully crafting, gathering suggestions from Bambam, ignoring suggestions from Yugeyeom.

The lights are flashing different colours from the machine he bought off some shady-looking site that apparently shipped to him from Norway but they’re doing the job, so he’s not complaining.

People press against him as he jerks his body around, jumps up and down in what could only be vaguely described as dancing but it’s fine because it’s not like anyone is paying attention anyway. Every time his feet momentarily make contact with the floor of the house, he feels the bass shoot up through him again, feel the vibrations wrack through his body with all the force of an earthquake.

He’s shout-singing the words, out-of-tune but with enough fervour and passion to make up for it.

It’s thrilling, being packed this close to so many people he only vaguely knows ‒ but they all know him. They shout his name over the music: thanking him for the invite he never gave them, or congratulating him on the party.

_ I could get used to this _, he thinks.

From his spot in the middle of the dance floor, he can see the beer pong tournament still going strong, Bambam trying to coerce Yugyeom into doing a body shot despite Yugyeom’s bright red cheeks and blatant embarrassment, and Jinyoung looking far too sober stood in the corner making conversation with someone whose name Jackson’s blanking on. (He’ll blame it on the alcohol rather than the ugly emotion clawing against his gut.)

He makes to go over there, maybe convince Jinyoung to take a shot or two, or maybe dance with him but then a hand is wrapping itself around his wrist and he’s being pulled away from the crowd and into someone’s arms.

“Mark!” he cheers excitedly. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“And miss the biggest party of the year so far?” Mark fixes him with a grin. “Never.”

Jackson laughs, the drinks he’s had making it loose and free and high-pitched. “It’s the _ only _ party of the year so far,” he corrects and Mark laughs along with him. “And trust me,” he pulls Mark close, as though he’s telling him something very secret, “they’re only going to get better.”

“You’re planning on having more?” Mark asks through laughs.

“Of course! You think I’d stop here? I’m not stopping until everyone on campus knows my name.”

“They already know it.”

“Not well enough,” Jackson sing-songs.

Someone behind Jackson calls his name and he shoots Mark an apologetic look. Mark shakes his head.

“You go; I need to get a drink, anyway. Seriously though, dude, great party.”

The compliment sends something warm to mix with the vodka in Jackson’s veins.

“Thanks, Markie. Have fun.” He pulls Mark into a hug before he hears someone shout his name again and he has to pull away. “I’ll see you later!”

He does not see Mark later that night.

  


The rest of the night passes in flashes.

Flashes of tequila on his tongue and burning the back of his throat. Flashes of people and things and song requests and being pulled all over the house by different people. The people don’t stand out in his mind; rather, they all blend into one mass, he remembers them as silhouettes.

Flashes of songs, flashes of dancing and bodies pressed tight against him. Flashes of light until it all goes black.

**___**

The sunlight is harsh against Jackson’s eyes. It feels like fire with knives attached to it trying to claw its way into Jackson’s brain through his eye sockets and he hisses at the pain, screwing his eyes closed again immediately.

He hears a laugh from somewhere in the darkness and turns his head to where he thinks it came from only to immediately regret his decision when it makes his stomach swim. He pulls his eyes open very, _ very _ slowly to be met with the sight of an irritatingly put-together Jinyoung standing at the foot of the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest and an amused expression on his face.

And maybe Jackson’s still a little drunk from the night before, but with the light flooding in through the windows behind Jinyoung and bathing him in bright sunlight, framing him delicately, he looks like an actual angel. Or maybe Jackson’s just too far gone for his best friend at this point.

“Rise and shine, Princess,” Jinyoung says.

And yes, Jackson is officially too far gone because he could definitely get used to Jinyoung calling him _ Princess _ no matter how condescending he sounds.

Jackson manages to let out a protesting whine of _ “hhhmffaachchhh” _ before he welds his eyelids together again in an effort to block out both the stupid sun and his stupid feelings. Jinyoung laughs again, a wonderful, endeared sound that makes warmth creep its way into Jackson’s chest.

“No _ hhmffaccccahhchc _,” Jinyoung mimics back with somewhat frightening accuracy. “Come on, you need to clean up because I am not letting you just lie around in filth all day the day before classes start.”

“Just let me sit in dirt.” Jackson turns so he’s face down on the sofa. His nose is pressing into the cushions and making it difficult for him to breathe but at least it’s dark here.

“No.”

Jackson groans again. “How are you fine?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Jinyoung says simply. “I don’t get drunk off my face.”

“That’s a lie,” Jackson says indignantly, even though it comes out muffled because he’s speaking into the sofa. “We all saw you at that boat party last year. And at dinner last week. And at-”

“Okay that’s enough Jackson; if you have the energy to bring up my dark past-”

“Last week_ . _”

“-_ dark past, _ then you have the energy to help me clean this place up.

Jackson, very slowly and very reluctantly, pushes himself into a sitting position. He stays there for a moment, but then it all feels like too much effort and the room is spinning so he promptly collapses back to lie down on the sofa again.

He hears Jinyoung tut and that’s all the warning he gets before there are strong hands tufting in the back of his shirt and pulling him up. Jinyoung silences Jackson’s whines with a firm, “shut up,” and a more affectionate, “I made you some coffee; it’s in the kitchen,” before he’s walking off, a large bin bag in hand.

Jackson just about manages to pull himself up and swing his legs over the side of the sofa before he has to pause again.

“Why are you even here?”

“Sorry? Did you want me to leave?” Jinyoung calls back from the other room, voice mocking.

Jackson, with much effort and pain, pushes himself to his feet and waits for his vision to steady before responding.

“No. Just wondering. You don’t have to, if you don’t want. You could leave.” Even if Jackson really really wants him to stay.

“And let you deal with this mess by yourself?”

Jackson shrugs, even though Jinyoung can’t see him.

“Just hurry up and drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

It’s not too difficult, in the end. Jinyoung puts on some music and it’s more or less just putting things into bags and hauling them to the wheelie bins outside the house. It just takes a very very long time, and they keep finding discarded cups and the remains of broken lamps and whatever the hell else people had with them at the party in the most random of places.

It’s not that bad, all things considered, even if it is tiring.

When the house finally looks respectable again, and there’s no more strange stains on the floor, they both collapse onto the sofa with heavy sighs.

“Pizza?”

Jinyoung makes a noise of assent.

“It was worth it though, right? The party was good?”

“It was great, Jackson.”

**___**

“Everyone be quiet! He’s gonna be here soon!”

Jackson flicks the lights off and moves to hide behind the sofa with Jinyoung. A laugh breaks through the silence.

“God! Youngjae, can you ever shut up?” Jaebeom’s voice, loud and indignant, rings out.

“Oh, fuck off. Like you’re any better.”

Jackson can practically feel Jaebeom open his mouth to retort so he quickly calls out, “both of you! Quiet! Fight later.”

The quiet that falls over the room is more awkward this time.

Jackson turns to exchange an exasperated look with Jinyoung, who looks just as annoyed as Jackson feels.

“What are they even fighting about anymore?”

Jinyoung shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Who knows? But they’ve been at each other’s throats for days and, honestly, it’s not even entertaining anymore.”

Jackson lets out a huff of irritation. “I’ll fix it. Leave it to me.”

Jinyoung doesn’t look like he believes him, but sighs nonetheless. “Sure. You work your magic or whatever.”

Jackson fixes him with a cocky grin and opens his mouth to say something back, but then the sound of the door being opened cuts through the quiet and he feels the room grow still with apprehension.

Mark steps in, and his conversation with Bambam trails off as he takes in the dark room around him.

“What’s thi-”

“Surprise!” all of them ‒ which is a considerable amount ‒ shout as they leap out from wherever they’d been hiding.

Mark shrieks and tries to hide behind Bambam, face morphing into one of fear amid laughter and whoops and the speakers projecting _ congratulations~. _He looks around the room, taking it all in and his terrified face melts into something giddy, his hand clutching at his chest.

“You guys nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Jackson slinks an arm around his shoulders. “That was kind of the idea,” he says, winking. Then, quieter, “happy birthday, Markie.”

“Thanks, Seunie.”

“Okay! Let’s party!”

It’s not much different to the one a few days ago, but everyone seems to be enjoying it just as much ‒ if not even more. There are people everywhere, and trying to get around the house is a nightmare. It’s a maze of _ hey Jackson _’s and sweaty university students and weird smells.

It feels more packed than last time, though that probably shouldn’t be surprising. Not when Jackson’s party had been the talk of the uni for the last few days, and he has an open-door policy for party-goers.

Jackson loves it, though. Even if he doesn’t have the time to bask in it and enjoy himself. Because he’s looking for Jaebeom and trying to convince his stubborn ass to stop being such an idiot.

Very briefly he passes Jinyoung, a red cup in his hand and eyes scrunched up in a smile. Jackson has half a mind to stop and talk to him, but then he’s being whisked away by the crowd and the moment’s gone.

“How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Language,” Jackson says without missing a beat.

At the unimpressed look Yugyeom gives him, Jackson laughs. He turns his attention back to where Jaebeom and Youngjae are diligently making out in a corner.

“Don’t underestimate the power of a Jackson Wang party,” he says, as though that’s an explanation.

“You saying your parties are an aphrodisiac or some shit?”

“Yes.”

“Sure, dude.” Yugyeom claps him on the back.

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” The crowd chants and Jackson obeys, relishing in the cheers as his throat bobs up and down, ignoring the burn and how liquid spills out of the cup and down his chin.

When he finishes, there are hoots and applause and Jackson grins as he wipes his face. His eyes meet Jinyoung’s, whose eyes are slightly out of focus and is staring at him with some kind of fond disapproval. It’s a very _ Jinyoung _ face. Jackson’s grin widens.

_ Chug _, he mouths at Jinyoung and laughs brightly when Jinyoung tilts his head back and downs the drink in his hand in one.

“_ Happy birthday to you~” _ Jackson sings, charging into the living room balancing a cake with too many candles atop his hands.

The crowd parts easily for him and joins in until the room is filled with a deafening chorus of out-of-tune drunk college students warbling along to _ happy birthday. _

Jinyoung is standing next to Mark, an arm slung around his shoulders and singing right into his ear. Jackson, as he approaches the pair of them, can just about make out Jinyoung’s voice underneath the crowd’s. It’s angelic as always, despite the way he’s clinging to Mark for balance.

The song ends with a final drawn-out note and Mark giggles.

“Make a wish, Markie!”

Mark closes his eyes and clasps his hands together. It’s completely silent for a single second before Mark’s eyes shoot back open and he blows out his candles.

**___**

“Hey, Jackson!” A hand claps him on the back and Jackson only very barely avoids choking on his chicken. “Great party on Saturday, dude.”

And then whoever it was is gone and Jackson will never know who almost gave him an early death by way of poor eating skills and being easily startled.

Jinyoung looks at him from across the table with stark distaste, but passes him a napkin anyway.

“That’s like the tenth one today. Was your party really that good?”

Jackson finally manages to swallow his chicken. “Obviously.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I should have let you choke.”

**___**

Weeks pass and Jackson spends a good ninety-three percent of his time actively thinking about, planning, or attending his own parties. The house is in a state more than it’s clean and his blood consists only of caffeine and alcohol but, for the most part, it’s pretty chill.

People talk to him constantly, telling him that they’re already looking forward to his next party (even if he’s still nursing his hangover from the last one) or how much fun they had (even if Jackson spends most of the parties putting out fires ‒ both figurative and literal.)

Jinyoung’s stopped coming to them, which is sad. He only came to his own birthday party after a _ lot _ of begging which was even sadder.

(“I don’t want a party, Jackson.”

“But I’ve already organised it!”

“Well, you shouldn’t have used my birthday as an excuse just to throw another party then, should you? I’m not coming and that’s final.”)

He had shown up, though. If only out of pity and he’d pouted the entire time. Jackson had made it up to him by buying him a collections of books he’d been after for a while and a quiet night in with their five closest friends and he’d been forgiven. If only begrudgingly.

As it stands, he’s eaten nothing but cup ramen and instant coffee for the past two weeks in order to make up for the purchase he’s currently in the middle of.

He’s wheeling a trolley down the aisles of a supermarket, shivering because he’s in the frozen section and he forgot to bring a jacket. His trolley is already pretty much full with large glass bottles of decent tasting but not excessively expensive alcohol. There’s also a pile of Halloween decorations, tacky and pretty ugly. Jackson’s sure people won’t be sober enough to appreciate his interior design, but he still wants to make it as atmospheric as possible, even if it’ll go unnoticed.

The wheels squeak under the weight of it all as pushes it out of the frozen isle and into the snack section. He pulls maybe thirty or so bags of crisps and other such treats from the shelves and tosses them unceremoniously into the trolley before taking off down the aisle to browse for some Halloween-themed food.

Tescos doesn’t disappoint.

He’s shifting a grotesque amount of neon green and black gummy worms into his trolley when he feels a judging but familiar stare at the back of his head. He turns to see Jinyoung, exasperation in his eyes and arms crossed over his chest in that disappointed-parent fashion he seems to have perfected.

Jinyoung eyes the trolley with distaste.

“That’s so much stuff,” he says, like Jackson doesn’t already know that.

Jackson rolls his eyes and turns back around, leaning up to grab a selection of chocolate spiders before chucking them on top of all the other stuff.

“Well, I need a lot of stuff if I want the party to be good.”

“You haven’t bought this much for all the other ones,” Jinyoung points out.

“Because this is _ Halloween, _ ” Jackson says, expecting that to be enough of an explanation. At Jinyoung’s blank expression, he pushes on. “It has to be bigger and better than anything before it. People can’t walk away and be like ‘ _ yeah, pretty standard Jackson Wang party, _” ‒ it needs to be better than a standard Jackson Wang party.”

Jinyoung continues to look lost and Jackson sighs.

“Basically, I need to make it better than the last one.”

“And,” Jinyoung glanes at the trolley again, “a thousand packs of gummy worms are going to do that.”

“Yes,” Jackson huffs, and he begins wheeling his trolley to where he needs to pay.

Jinyoung follows him, making jokes about the things he’s bought. Together, they move all the stuff onto the conveyor belt and pack it into a collection of bags Jackson’s brought from home. Jackson pays. Even though his grip on his card is perhaps a bit too tight as he hands it over to the cashier. It’s as they’re wheeling back out of the shop and to the car park that Jinyoung finally stops mocking how much tequila Jackson’s bought when he knows he hates it and says, “where’s your costume, anyway?”

Jackson freezes. Or, he tries to. The trolley’s momentum carries him a little further forward before he can actually freeze.

“Shit.”

Jinyoung laughs. It’s that really loud, very beautiful laugh that makes his eyes scrunch up and his mouth open very wide but Jackson can’t even appreciate it because he’s too far gone.

“Did you really forget?”

Jackson turns to him in irritation. “Could you not have reminded me about this before we’d paid instead of telling me that I didn’t get enough licorice?” he snaps.

Jinyoung stops laughing.

“Seunie,” he says carefully, no amusement left in his voice, and his eyes scanning Jackson’s face, “are these parties stressing you out?”

Jackson stays silent for a moment before he relents. Because it’s Jinyoung and Jinyoung wouldn’t hold it against him.

“A little,” he says in a quiet voice. “It’s just that, like, they have to be good. Not even that, they all need to be better than the last one and I don’t even know how because what the hell makes a party good?” Jinyoung looks like he wants to say something but Jackson keeps going. “So, like, I’d just really appreciate it if you stopped mocking me and just let me buy a stupid amount of stupid stuff for my stupid party in peace, please.”

Jinyoung’s face turns sombre. Concerned.

“Come on,” he says, taking the trolley from Jackson, “I’ll help you set up. We can make a costume, too.”

“Thanks, Jinyoungie.” Jackson follows him.

**___**

“Dude! This is like your best party yet!” someone screams through a mouthful of gummy worms right in Jackson’s ear and he winces when spit flies out of their mouth.

He turns to thank them but they’ve already disappeared into the crowd and another person is already calling Jackson’s name to tell him how much fun they’re having. And, like all his parties, it’s hectic but exhilarating and everyone around him seems to be having the time of their lives.

The dance floor is crawling with people in a whole range of costumes, and the scent of vodka and beer lingers in the air. Jackson’s costume ‒ quickly improvised and poorly made by him and Jinyoung ‒ has received only compliments and no one seems to have broken anything so far, which is always a plus.

All in all, Jackson’s proud. It’s a good party. Better than his last one ‒ and that’s what matters.

**___**

Jackson cracks his eyes open and immediately recoils at the bright light that attacks his retinas. He edges them back open again, just enough to make out the half-eaten party rings, fake cobwebs, and empty cups all over the floor. He groans and lets his eyes flicker closed again, but, just before he does, he manages to see a familiar silhouette trecking around the living room and moving rubbish into bin bags.

**___**

“Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung hums from where he’s sat on his bed, typing rapidly at his laptop.

“What do you need for a bonfire?”

Jinyoung stops typing to level Jackson with a look.

“It was Halloween like three days ago.”

“It’s not my fault we have so many weird holidays!” Jackson says defensively.

Jinyoung sighs and looks back at his laptop.

“Jinyoung. Jinyoung, you didn’t answer my question. Jinyoung.”

**___**

The fire cracks loudly, even over the music. Coldness bites at the exposed skin on Jackson’s neck but he ignores it in favour of chucking another Guy Fawkes doll onto the bonfire, yelling in excitement as the fire roars and begins to infect the cotton doll.

Everyone else cheers in time, too and they all marvel at the bonfire for a moment.

The doll turns black before it shrivels up and becomes part of the fire, now burning even brighter than before.

The playlist for tonight was carefully crafted at four in the morning, all ‘fire-themed’ and people seem to be appreciating the effort, Jackson thinks, if the way they’re all head-banging to Guy Fawkes burning alive is any indicator.

The night’s going pretty well.

A loud bang.

And he spoke too soon.

And then he’s running to where a series of loud cracks are splitting through _ My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark _ to find someone he doesn’t even know standing, very obviously high and very obviously panicking, stood over a clump of luminous rockets, currently on fire, and a pink lighter lying on the grass.

The collection of fireworks Jackson had so carefully selected and bought are now nothing more than a health hazard and he sighs. Well, bonfire night can probably survive without fireworks. Maybe. He’s still got about thirty boxes of sparklers. They’ll probably be able to catch one of the close-by fireworks displays anyway, if they get desperate.

A loud _ crack _ snaps him out of his thoughts and back into the present. The present where a very dangerous ball of lit gunpowder is threatening to make this the worst party Jackson’s ever held and he will not let that happen.

“Water!” he screeches. “We need water!”

**___**

Jinyoung slides him a black coffee across the table, but not without a judging look.

“Shut up,” Jackson says.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you thought something.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes and Jackson shuts his, hoping to block out sunlight but of course it doesn’t last for long.

Jackson’s phone buzzes repeatedly for a few moments. He ignores it.

“Wagwan, bitches,” Bambam’s voice rings in Jackson’s ears and he groans, slumping forwards onto the table.

“What’s wrong with him?” That’s Yugyeom’s voice and, to his credit, he does sound very slightly genuinely concerned.

“He’s an idiot,” Jinyoung says easily and, honestly, Jackson isn’t in a position to disagree.

“Fair,” Bambam says.

His phone buzzes a few more times.

He cracks open an eye and is met by the sight of Bambam perched on Yugyeom’s lap ‒ not an uncommon sight ‒ but what _ is _ and has his eyes flying wide open in shock, is the chaste kiss Yugyeom presses to Bambam’s cheek, their hands entwined atop the table.

“Wh- what the fuck?” he coughs out. “When did this happen?” He gestures wildly between the two. “I mean, like, it should have happened years ago and I’m happy for you but also _ when _? And how? And why did no one tell me about it? After all I’ve done trying to set you guys up?”

“Dude,” Bambam eyes him, bemused, “it happened at your party.”

“What?”

The three of them start laughing as Jackson gapes silently at them.

“Did you really not know?” Yugyeom asks, shaking as he tries to subdue his laughs. “Mate, it was literally in the middle of your living room.”

“Ah,” Jinyoung says, still breathing heavily from having laughed too much, “this must have been when Jackson was screeching at the top of his lungs and dumping bottles of water on the fireworks.”

Yugyeom and Bambam start cackling again. “God!” Bambam chokes out, “I saw that on Youngjae’s story. Jacks ‒ your face ‒ just, perfect. Literally perfect.”

Jackson groans again, and lets his head sink onto the table. “Things got… a little out of hand.”

Jinyoung snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But it’s fine,” Jackson says, though he doesn’t lift his head up. “I’ve learnt from my mistakes. No more explosives at my parties from now on. It’s all part of the learning curve.”

“Sure it is, buddy.” Jinyoung pats his shoulder.

Jackson’s phone goes off again.

“Jackson could you please check your phone in case someone has died and they need you to throw a party to commemorate them.”

Jackson grunts and seizes his phone, glancing only very briefly at the abundance of notifications on the lock screen before turning it off and flinging it back onto the table.

At his friends confused looks, he explains, “it’s all either people tagging me in photos from the party, or asking when the next one is and all I want is one day where they all just shut up.”

He feels his friends exchange a look with each other but doesn’t bother to see what it is. There’s an awkward silence and Jackson feels guilty for causing. He summons the bare scraps of his strength that remain and pushes them all into a smile and excited voice.

“Are you guys going to tell me how you _ finally _ got together, or not?”

Bambam squeals and launches into it with feral hand gestures. Jackson momentarily catches Jinyoung’s too knowing gaze before he focuses back on Bambam.

**___**

Jackson can feel the tension growing exponentially by the second, can feel the entire crowd lean forward in synchronised motion, eyes fixed on the ball at Mark’s feet. He pauses for only a split-second, just outside the box and Jackson grins when he sees the teasing smirk he shoots the opposition’s goalie.

Mark edges forward, tilts his body and lifts his right foot up just enough to declare his intent on dribbling it in.

But Jackson knows Mark’s left handed.

In the tiny moment the goalie lurches forward to try and crowd and intimidate Mark, he’s pushed his right foot back onto the ground and passed the ball to where Yuta stands, just in front of the last defender, and just in the goalie’s blind spot.

Yuta slams it into the back of the net before the goalie even has a chance to tear his eyes away from Mark’s and the referee blows the whistle. The shrill sound cuts across the field and there’s a moment of complete silence before their side erupts into cheers and erratic squealing.

Jackson clings to Bambam, jumping up and down with him and he sees Mark and Yuta barrel into each other down on the pitch, falling to the floor amidst bright smiles and giggles before they’re joined by the rest of their team. Taekwoon flops down onto the pair of them first, almost smothering them by the looks of it but neither of them seem to care, too caught up in the euphoria of JYPU’s third consecutive championship win.

“Celebratory party at Jackson’s?”

Wait. What.

Jackson stops jumping, looking around frantically and hoping that it’s a joke or he’s hallucinating or he’s in a simulation or some other reasonable explanation.

Apparently he’s not. Instead, there’s cheers and chorused, “let’s do it!”s which is shitty.

Well then, time to make an emergency run to Lidl for some cheap vodka. Great.

**___**

The party moves around him as Jackson remains firmly rooted in the corner of the kitchen, guarding the bottles of alcohol to make sure no one breaks anything and loses him even more money, and eyes glued to the bank app open on his phone as though it might change if he looks away.

“Jackson?”

He hadn’t even realised Jinyoung had walked in.

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

Jackson makes a noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“Right,” Jinyoung says, in a voice that sounds far too much like he actually understood. “Right.”

**___**

“Hey, Jacks!” Jackson forces his head to turn in the direction of the voice. “When’s the next party?”

Jackson pushes out a laugh and hopes it sounds at least somewhat normal.

“I’ll let you know when I have a date,” he calls back.

“You’re a real one, Wang!”

Jackson shoots him a pained thumbs-up before turning back to Jinyoung.

He grips the edge of the table. “Help.”

“Why.”

“Because you love me?” Jackson chances.

Jinyoung just continues to stare at him.

“I need a reason to have a party and there’s literally nothing right now that I can use.”

“Why not just have a party without a theme?”

“Because there needs to be a gimmick otherwise it’s not fun,” Jackson whines.

“Just throw one really shit party and people will stop asking you to throw more.”

“Jinyoung. I am having a crisis.”

“When are you not?”

“Rude. True. But rude.”

**___**

“Jackson,” Jinyoung starts, in that voice that makes him sound like a highly disappointed parent. It’s a voice Jackson’s been hearing more and more often lately. A heavy sigh. “Why are you looking at scuba diving equipment?”

Jackson looks up sheepishly, meeting Jinyoung’s tired eyes before looking back at the screen of his laptop, albeit self-consciously.

“National Oxygen Awareness Day,” he mumbles, as though that’s an answer.

“National Oxygen Awareness Day,” Jinyoung repeats, deadpan. “And you need snorkels and shit for this because…”

“Because,” Jackson searches for a way to phrase it that doesn’t make him sound insane. It’s a more difficult task than it should be. “Oxygen is everywhere.” And he fails. Big surprise.

Jinyoung scrunches his face up slightly in clear pain. “You’re not wrong,” he says, like it costs him a great amount of effort.

“I can’t just have a party to celebrate breathing. So, like, there has to be something to bring awareness to the oxygen rather than just walking around breathing normally.”

“And your solution was,” Jinyoung pauses him, like he’s still processing, “scuba diving equipment.”

“It helps you to breathe,” Jackson says weakly.

“Yeah, underwater.”

“Same difference.”

Jinyoung opens his mouth to argue but then seems to think better of it when he sees just how utterly defeated Jackson looks. 

“Smart.”

And Jackson will take that, even though it’s so very obviously insincere.

He adds a few of the cheapest snorkels to his basket and tries to ignore how Jinyoung’s failing at stifling his laughter behind him.

**___**

_ Live off you, live off you. 'Cause you're mine. Oxygen. _

“Ey, what song is this?” Jaebeom asks in his ear, grooving along to the slow beat and beer on his breath. Honestly, he looks far too close to dropping to the floor and b-boying even though he was supposed to have stopped doing that in middle school and Jackson doesn't want to be the one to have to deal with that when it inevitably goes wrong.

“I don’t know,” Jackson mutters, fiddling with a broken scuba mask he’d found on the floor. “Some singer from China.”

He groans, rubs at his eyes with his hands. “I think I need glue or cellotape or something. I’ve got some in my room; I’ll be back in a sec.”

He doesn’t wait for a response and starts legging it up the stairs, breathing equipment in hand. He flings the door to his bedroom open and then freezes.

He blinks.

“Oh come on!” he yells, glaring at the two figures lying in his bed. “In my bed?” At their sheepish but otherwise unashamed faces, he rolls his eyes and huffs. This has perhaps become something he’s a bit too used to and that’s sad and he knows it.

Then he sees something else and anger and exasperation flares up in his chest. “That’s not how the scuba stuff was meant to be used, for fucks sake,” he breathes out, tired.

He turns on his heel, ignoring their giggled apologies and resisting the urge to clean his brain with bleach. He’s had enough and he just wants to get out.

He storms out of the front door and into the cold night air and starts jogging and doesn’t stop until he’s in front of a familiar dorm building. He climbs the stairs three at a time and makes it to 313 in record time, panting heavily through his nose. He raps on the door with his knuckles until the door opens to reveal a disgruntled Jinyoung, hair messy and in an oversized white t-shirt. Jackson’s urge to coo is overpowered by his urge to fall head-first into Jinyoung’s embrace.

“Jack-”

“They were doing it in my bed.”

Jinyoung’s laugh isn’t unkind. “Again? I thought you locked your door.”

“I thought I did, too” Jackson mutters, dejected. “I put a sign on the door, as well.”

“Want to come in? I’m sure the party can survive without you for an hour or two.”

Jackson thinks on that for a moment, wondering if he really can just abandon his own party to the population of the university, if he can leave it unattended and hide out at Jinyoung’s. He wonders if it makes him a bad host, but then he thinks that maybe that’s not such a bad thing to be, when his guests are being, irrefutablely, bad guests. And there’s something else, something else in his gut that just draws him to Jinyoung and away from a house full of drunk, inconsiderate, college kids. And, besides, he reasons, there must be a reason he ran halfway across campus to come here.

He nods weakly against Jinyoung’s chest and lets him steer him into his dorm room.

Jinyoung sits him on the bed before going off to find him some more comfortable clothes to change into. Jackson pulls the too big jumper over his head and tries to breathe in Jinyoung’s scent as subtlely as he can. He probably doesn’t do too good of a job, but he can always blame it on being drunk if need be.

Jinyoung budges him up so that he’s pressed between the wall and Jinyoung himself before placing his laptop on his lap and beginning to scroll through Netflix.

“What you in the mood for?”

“Nothing about parties or university or drinking.”

“Right.”

Jackson slumps against Jinyoung’s side, and feels happiness bloom softly in his chest when Jinyoung places an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in tighter.

Jackson’s phone buzzes and he groans, but the sound is muffled as he buries his head in Jinyoung’s side. Jinyoung laughs softly, and normally Jackson would savour the affection hidden in it, but, as it stands, he feels nothing but irritation at his stupid phone and his stupid guests at his stupid party.

He digs around for his phone and holds down the power button with perhaps too much force. The screen goes black and he throws it off the side of the bed, feeling better about it all when Jinyoung laughs that disbelieving laugh of his and Jackson snuggles back into his side, ready to watch some movies and forget about fucking house parties.

**___**

“What’s the party for this time?” Jinyoung asks, sounding genuinely confused as opposed to snide like he usually is.

“I don’t even fucking know,” Jackson mutters, not looking up from his textbook.

“What happened to needing a gimmick?”

“My non-existent overdraft happened.” Jackson looks up, tries to look as pitiful as he possibly can. It’s not that difficult. “Also, I need your help.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “I’m not going, Jackson, I need to study. And so do you.”

“Exactly.”

And maybe the lack of sleep is getting to him and his grin is a touch too lopsided because Jinyoung suddenly looks very afraid.

**___**

“Okay, that looks pretty good, even if I do say so myself.” Jackson steps back to admire his work, hands on his hips.

The house is decorated with cheap flashing lights, the kitchen is fully stocked, and he’s leaching off of Jinyoung’s Spotify account so that he no longer has to pay for premium.

It’s all ready for a good party. It’s kind of bittersweet that he won’t be there to see it. But definitely more sweet than bitter.

**___**

He arrives at Jinyoung’s with a heavy rucksack but a light mind and sits himself on the floor, surrounded by textbooks and his laptop and diligently turns his phone off. Jinyoung joins him, even though he could have sat at his desk and they work in silence, quiet music filling the empty space around them (and thirty second ads every thirty minutes).

It’s nice. He doesn’t regret missing the party.

It’s around half three when they decide to call it a night. Jackson closes all of his textbooks and stuffs them into his bag, mind tired and eyes droopy but in a good way ‒ content and satisfied with what he’s done. The party, undoubtedly, is still in full blast so Jinyoung chucks him a large shirt and pair of tracksuits bottoms he can use for pyjamas before disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Jackson gets changed and slips beneath the covers, eyes falling shut as soon as his head hits the pillow. He feels warmth settle in next to him, and presses himself close into it. And when his mind is just _ Jinyoung Jinyoung Jinyoung, _ there’s no space left for parties and whether or not other people are enjoying themselves.

**___**

Jackson pulls on the door to his house and it swings open too easily. He sighs, bracing himself and feels Jinyoung place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He walks across the threshold, assessing the damage.

It’s bad.

There’s so much litter it’s basically a blanket over the floor, and broken shot glasses and beer bottles lay in fragments at the bottom of the staircase. There are large puddles of unknown but undoubtedly sticky drinks spreading across the flooring like liquid spiderwebs and sinking into the floorboards. He feels himself wince involuntarily at the absolute state of his house and it all just feels a little too much.

He drops his bag to the ground without care and storms up to his room. The door, thank God, is still locked so he deems it safe enough to go in and flop onto his bed in the one room in his house that hasn’t been completely demolished by drunk, horny college students.

It’s times like these when he has to look back over his entire life and curse at every decision he’s ever made for bringing him into this situation. Into a situation where his name has become synonymous with parties to the point that he’s pretty sure he is the only person on campus who even has them any more.

And maybe he’s being lazy or whatever but he cannot drag enough energy from his bones to pull himself out of bed to start cleaning, not when the entire act is drenched in futility. There’s no point, he wants to scream, in hauling his entire house up from the pits of dirtiness and chaos to make it all neat and tidy when it’s inevitably going to be trashed again in a week’s time. There’s no point in throwing money at parties he doesn’t even attend any more so that people can be happy while he damages his back studying on the floor and becomes a burden to his best friend.

There’s no point in any of it but he can’t stop. Not now. Not when he’s the one who’s built himself into this person.

The thoughts accelerate his heartbeat, make it frantic in his chest. It pounds against the inside of his rib cage, rattles the bones.

“Seunie.”

Jinyoung’s voice breaks through the chaos, grounds him.

“I don’t want to clean up, Jinyoung,” he manages to articulate. “There’s no point. Not when everything’s just gonna get wrecked against next week.

“You don’t have to throw another party if you don’t want to. You know that, right?” He says it in that same sarcastic tone he always uses, but there’s that underlying current of concern and worry there if you just listen close enough.

“But I do,” Jackson says, resigned and so very near broken. Jinyoung opens his mouth to speak but Jackson shakes his head and he shuts it again. “It’s who I am Jinyoung. It’s what I’m known for. And before you tell me I’m being dramatic and whiny, please know that I’m not exaggerating. People ‒ they see me as ‘the party guy’ and that’s all I am to them. And I’m okay with that. So long as they know me. So long as they like me… I’m okay with that.”

His words trail off into the space between them. Tiny and dejected and lies even to his own ears. Jinyoung doesn’t speak, though, like he knows there’s more to come.

“But sometimes it just… It gets a little overwhelming. Always having to deal with these people and smile at them and be happy constantly. And I don’t want to sound like a horrible person but I’m so tired of putting my life and my problems on the backburner so that everyone else can get tanked at a house party. I just want a few weeks where I don;t have to worry whether or not people are going to enjoy themselves at my next party; just a few weeks with no one asking when it is. That’s all I want, Jinyoung: a little peace.”

It’s only then that he realises how strained his voice sounds, like he’s speaking from the very back of his throat.

The bed dips as Jinyoung sits next to him but Jackson doesn’t turn to face him. He just keeps staring at the ceiling. Fingers begin to card gently through his hair and Jackson lets his eyes flutter closed, lets himself surrender to the personna he’s created for himself.

“You’re so much more than the parties you throw and the couples you get together, you know that right?” Jackson opens his mouth to protest but Jinyoung shushes him softly and Jackson can’t help but oblige. “Even before you started throwing your parties, people knew you and loved you for who you are as a person, not the parties you throw. And, even if that weren’t the case, it wouldn’t fucking matter because guess what? You’re more than what people think of you. You’re funny and smart and driven and kind and those are the things that matter. You’re Jackson Wang. And that’s pretty fucking impressive.”

Jackson snorts. “You’re being soppy today.”

“My best friend’s sad; I’m allowed to be soppy.” Jinyoung looks down at him, face serious. “Promise me you know you’re more than your parties and what others think of you.”

And it’s because it’s Jinyoung. And Jackson strongly believes that Jinyoung has never been wrong once in his life that he can say, “I’m more than my parties and what others think of me,” with a little more conviction than he’d had a moment ago.

Jinyoung pulls a face. “We’ll work on that.”

**___**

_ Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree _ filters through the house and Jackson dances along to it with mirth bright in each awkward flick of his limbs. He laughs when Jinyoung eyes his questionable moves and grabs his arm to pull him to the dance floor, even as Jinyoung blushes (a wondrous sight) and tries to hide behind his half of their matching ugly Christmas jumpers.

It’s not too raucous, but enough so for it to be fun and Jackson thinks that he’s definitely enjoying himself. It’s enough to make him smile to himself. Jinyoung raises a brow in question but Jackson shakes his head.

He’s only had wine to drink, so he feels a little dizzy and the world’s a bit foggy at the edges but it’s a fun sort of buzz, a pleasant feeling made even more so by the knowledge that he won’t spend the next morning hungover and angry at the world.

He and Jinyoung sort-of slow dance, sort-of bop loosely to the Christmas song and laughing loopily.

It’s the first time in a very long while Jackson’s had some semblance of joy at one of his own parties. Maybe it’s because there’s less people, or it’s his first one in a while, or another one of the many changes he’s implemented. But Jinyoung’s laughing at him ditzily, eyes scrunched up and Jackson can’t bear to think of party logistics any longer. Not when the biggest reason for his happiness is right in front of him, just like he always is.

**___**

Jinyoung holds out a bin bag and follows Jackson around as he picks up rubbish from the floor. Around the house, the others they’d enlisted to help are doing the same and it doesn't feel quite so tedious as it once did, now that the burden has been shared.

The rubbish is somewhat minimal, too, now that Jackson’s become a bit more hands-on with his approach to respecting his house during parties. It’s made a lot easier with Jinyoung at his side, looking generally intimidating.

They stand in the middle of the living room, discarded cups around them and the furniture all out of place and Jackson’s watching Jinyoung tie up a bin bag when he’s just hit by it. Feelings.

And he’s aware of his feelings ‒ has been for some time because how could he not be but there’s something about this moment, with Jinyoung’s hair messy and his lips moving along to the song they have playing, that screeches at him to act on it.

It’s not scary. Maybe some part of it should be, but there’s some _ thing _ ‒ gut, instinct, who knows ‒ that tells Jackson it’s okay. That tells him fear has no place between him and Jinyoung, not now, not ever. That tells him there’s no need to be scared because this is _ Jinyoung _. And Jinyoung and Jackson are as inevitable as day and night and the stars in the sky and all that other poetic bullshit.

They’re as inevitable as trash after one of Jackson’s parties.

He walks across to Jinyoung, not rushing, not after all this time. They’ve waited this long; they can wait a little longer.

“Jinyoung,” he says softly.

And when Jinyoung looks up, he places a gentle hand on the back of head, resting lightly against his hair and guides him forward.

Then their lips are touching and they both melt into it more than anything. Jinyoung doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest and, distantly, Jackson wonders if he’d felt that same feeling of inevitability, if he’d known even before Jackson did.

It doesn’t matter, Jackson decides, because Jinyoung’s lips are moving languidly against his own, soft and caring but so so passionate as years of emotions as labelling each other as _ best friends _ changes into what they’d always known it would be, but were just too scared to act on.

They break away for air, but their faces stay close and they have matching giddy grins as they stare at each other amidst all the trash around them.

“I love you,” Jackson says, words breathy and heavy but it feels like lifting a weight off his chest. Three words he’s thrown around flippantly with Jinyoung for years are now given their full weight, their full worth and he smiles as he says them, happy. So, so happy.

“I love you, too,” Jinyoung whispers back, eyes small with how much he’s smiling.

There's just something so incredible about finally giving into to a desire after holding off for so long, something so welcoming but daring at the same time and Jackson can't get enough of it.

He leans back in, captures Jinyoung's lips with his own once again.

When they break again, they rest their foreheads together.

“I think we found a reason for your next party.”

“And what would that be?”

“Jackson Wang finally gets a boyfriend of his own.”

Jackson’s grin grows impossibly wider.

“Would you even go?”

“Will you leave your bedroom door unlocked for us? I think it’s about time for you to get some action in your own bed considering everyone else already has.”

“Arsehole.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Jackson sighs. “I think I always have.”

**Author's Note:**

> every day is oxygen awareness day when you stream oxygen by jackson wang 
> 
> lmao this really isn't my best work but school has kinda hit me like brick and i tried my best so i hope it was at least kind of decent
> 
> also you're all welcome to come up for your own explanations as to why jackson lives alone in a house right next to campus -- i choose to think that he has a very wealthy aunt who has several houses in several countries and gave it to him for a graduation present but you can make up anything you like really
> 
> if you somehow enjoyed this, please validate me by leaving kudos and comments, they really make my day
> 
> feel free to come talk to me about how jackson deserves the entire world on [twt](https://twitter.com/whatisanult)  
or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/whatisanult)
> 
> thanks again to the mods and you for reading <33


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